I
Through a magnifying glass
Tiny white specks scatter
On long thin cherry pink petals.  

II
Last night’s moon dust
Speckles magenta petal-blades.
Dime-sized blooms startle
Meadow’s edge.  

III
Poet needs no magnifying glass.  

IV
Flower name came first,
Color “pink” later.  

V
No more meadows in Deptford,
Where London sprawls.  

VI
Could grant shade
To an ant or maybe two.  

VII
Pinks unfold in June,
Show me the harvest
Of summers at home,
Sown between those
Spent elsewhere.  

VIII
My son brought me news
Of the blooms this year,
Displaying
Devotion for our soil,
One measure of his soul.

(I have so enjoyed this month with all of you and your poetry. I’ve learned a lot and I appreciate deeply the kind words you’ve shared. Thanks also to the organizers, facilitators and donors. I’ll be in Germany next summer, but will find a way to participate. I wouldn’t miss it!)